


Demise

by Writer_In_Residence



Series: My Last Words To You [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Historical References, Hurt No Comfort, Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 07:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15166085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_In_Residence/pseuds/Writer_In_Residence
Summary: A silent letter from Arthur to Alfred when he never came home.





	Demise

Dear Alfred,

I still believe that without your assistance in the Second War, I would not have managed to make it out the same way I have in the past. Knowing that your assistance was opposing your people’s view of isolationism by joining the War, you still came to my aid. Helping my country that fought against the spreading invasion in Europe is something I will be forever grateful for. But after the fall of the frog’s country. It was declared that you were now aiding him. 

This was June 1941. Thinking back on it now, was this the start of it all?

I'm sure you know that by the end of the War the situation my country was in. Severe economic privation along with a new boss with unfamiliar notions that I was at loss with. Alongside, my country’s national debt was a heavy burden I was responsible for. Then again, you were never home, so I guess you never saw how I spent days in the study with paperwork piling up day by day, endlessly. 

I was blind towards what was transpiring behind the scenes. 

Was this our downfall? Where my attention to detail lacked?

Regardless, I still had hope things would get better, even if it did not hold. It crumbled once your nation stopped its assistance. Once it was declared that you were no longer aiding mine. 

Immediately at that. 

I'm not upset at the reason that you left me to fend for myself. I knew that things were not great for you as well. With tension building between you and him immediately after the War. I was just another problem you had to deal with because of our alliance. Though, of course, there was always the underlining detail that we were together. Allied and infatuated since 1917.

Now one sided or so it seems.

I remember you coming to me in the middle of the night, just to get away from all the pressure. Slipping into the bedsheets behind me, I could hear you trying to calm yourself as you pressed me to your chest tightly. Do you still remember? I wouldn’t be surprised if you brushed it off as something insignificant. 

But for me it’s the one thing that I still hold to my heart dearly. I would always make sure to wake up earlier in the morning and cook all your favourites. Granted, I know I'm not the best cook, not compared to that frog at least. But you would still eat it, right? That meant that you still cared about me. About us. 

Right?

Or is this another one of my hopeless fantasies I'm clinging onto from when you were younger?

I should stop thinking about things decades’ ago. You always laughed at how I would ponder about it late at night our bed. We were together for so long, those War-filled years seem insignificant now. It’s been years since the last conflict. It couldn’t have been going on for that long, couldn’t it? 

Though here I am, several years later, apologising for not being enough for you.

With all of the memories in my lifetime, I'm thankful that I had someone like you with me for so long. I'm content with the years we spent together. Glued together through the thick and thin. I'm relieved that those numerous years we spent together were valuable ones. However the significance of those years are lost on me if they meant anything to you. 

I don’t exactly remember when I started noticing it. I think I realised straightaway, only to will myself to think differently. _Maybe it’s nothing, just the summer heat of July getting to my head._ But late at night when you weren’t in bed, it’s the warmth your body emitted that I miss the most now. 

It’s a small thing, but I can’t remember. When was the last time you had spent a full night in our bed? 

I believe it was after a couple of nights of your disappearance I finally had the courage to get out of bed. Finding you sitting slouched on the living room couch on your phone. Smiling and faintly laughing at whatever was on that screen. Texting with a single hand, the other hidden behind your head, tucked in the messy strands of blonde. You’d turn on the telly, maybe as an excuse if I ever woke up. But after a week of no confrontation from myself, you never turned it back on. 

Your glasses were always off. Left on the table beside our bed. Somehow always forgotten. 

I’d watch every night for something new to occur. For you to come back to bed. For it to not be what I thought it was. Though after a couple of nights it turned into me standing in the doorway struck with awe with how beautiful you looked in the minimal light of that screen illuminating your face. Your stunning blue eyes shadowed behind your overgrown golden locks. Tousled and sticking up in every direction. And regardless of how much you’ve matured over the centuries, without your glasses that innocent, childish face of yours still lingers. 

Nowadays, my fingers inch every time I think about it. 

It became one of those habits of mine, didn’t it? Tucking my hands in your hair when we kissed. Caressing the soft skin of your cheek every morning with my fingertips. Listening to the vibrations of your laughter during comedies when I’d be nestled against your chest. Stroking my thumbs over yours when we held hands. I still remember how often I’d discreetly tickle your palm at dinner events, you’d go red trying to hold in your smile.

But just like everyday habits, after a while they fade when the tides change. Pushing for new habits to form; making us adapt. And I adapted. I stopped waiting for you to come back to bed. I stopped watching you from the living room doorway. And I stopped forcing myself to believe that this is not what I think it is. 

I stopped making myself love you, and from that, I can’t remember the last time I kissed you. 

Maybe you never noticed our demise. Maybe it never crossed your mind what I would think seeing you every morning sound asleep on the sofa. Maybe you never cared about your blatancy. 

Was I supposed to ask you about it? Or was that my que to pack up my things and leave? 

You were so glued to that screen, day in and day out. Was I wrong for never questioning you about it? I thought what we felt about each other was forever-lasting. I thought that the promises we made were meant to be stored and cherished, awaiting for the day to come true. Were those just blatant lies? Flippant words that are just ancient history now? What about me, what happened to your love for me? When did you realise your love for me was missing? When did I become undesirable? Did you wake up one morning and the love was just not there anymore? 

Or was it now directed towards another person now?

I thought you would have stopped by now, realised that your love for me was more than what you built with him. But it was my own illusions that I used as a shield from reality because you never left me. 

It’s been almost a year and a half since it was just you texting on the couch. I can’t believe myself when I say that I miss those days when it was just that. But recently you’ve been gone for days with no explanation and a dismissive attitude when I ask you where you’ve been. Then again in the past month I’ve abandoned asking you about that as well.

I don’t think I can live in silence anymore. I cannot continue living this way with you lying with the way you feel about me. These are my final words to you, Alfred. I hold no hatred or discontent towards you. I only wish for your happiness from now on, without me.

Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
